This time last year Thom told me that blooms of emergency exit green on the canal were a sign that it was sure to be a cold winter. He was joking, but I believed him and fretted about impending doom and urban frostbite.
But now, dare I admit it, I am looking forward to the chilly months. Which is absurd, because I am a bonafide sun lover. But something about micro-fleece leggings, mulled wine, autumn leaves and mittens is tickling my fancy.
Last week I booked a flight back to New Zealand in February, which might be lulling me into a sense of security.
I will get a summer, I will get a summer. Best of both worlds?